


i have possibly, maybe, pined a bit

by Bluebluebaby



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: F/F, oh no there was only one bed, snowed-in sapphics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebluebaby/pseuds/Bluebluebaby
Summary: Stevie picks up Alexis from the airport... they get snowed in en-route back to Schitt's Creek and figure some things out.(Featuring: Oh No There Was Only One Bed! and Edibles and Vending Machines)
Relationships: Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 20
Kudos: 88





	i have possibly, maybe, pined a bit

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my trusty Canadian everydaybicon for making sure i didn't offend my neighbors to the north xo

Airports have always made Stevie feel like a failure. 

(More so now, after the catastrophic Larry Air experience, but that’s neither here nor there.) 

Airports are a reminder of opportunities missed, paths not taken. A reminder of the world beyond Schitt’s Creek, where people do the things they want to do without fear holding them back. 

(She’s not overly fond of airports.) 

It’s salt in the wound, Alexis asking her to pick her up from Pearson ( _ “Those tiny planes are like, an absolute terror for my T-zone, Stevie! _ ”), a two-hour drive home where she can monologize about how exciting New York is, how much her life has improved since getting the fuck out of Schitt’s Creek. 

(Then again, she keeps coming back, so…) 

Stevie sulks for the first half of the drive to Toronto, annoyed that David isn’t doing this himself, annoyed at herself for not simply telling Alexis “no,” annoyed that she doesn’t actually have a valid excuse for not making the trip. But then, resignation gives way to a bit of peace. Stevie’s always been her own best company, and at least until Alexis is in the car, she can listen to old albums and enjoy a bit of solitude. 

Alexis’s flight is on-time, thankfully ( _ be there in 10; total pr crisis with paris hilton but nothing a few quickfire fleets can’t fix xoxo,  _ she texts upon landing _ ) _ and she doesn’t even wrinkle her nose upon throwing her suitcase in the trunk and climbing into the passenger seat of Stevie’s beat up sedan. 

It’s just begun to snow, which is not at all out of the ordinary for February (it will be mid-March before the perpetual snowbanks begin to recede, after all), but Stevie feels the ache in her bones that means the weather will get worse, and fast. 

“Remind me again why David isn’t doing this?” 

Alexis rolls her eyes. 

“He gets leg cramps if he drives for more than an hour. And then he complains about it for like,  _ six  _ hours. Totally not worth it.” 

Stevie shrugs, trying to look as cool and casual as she desperately wants to be. 

“I don’t think he can drive in snow anyways, so, I’ll let you have this one.” 

Alexis nods sagely, eyes glued to her phone as her fingers tap frantically. 

“Yeah, I mean, being stranded on the side of the road in a blizzard is like, my worst fear. There was that one time at the cabin in Aspen with Heidi and Spencer, but we had champagne and a hot tub, at least.” 

“This car… does not have a hot tub. But the heater’s working; today’s your lucky day.” 

Alexis giggles, and that makes the car feel even cozier. 

“God, I’ve missed normal people.” 

A couple years ago, it would’ve been condescending, but Stevie knows now that Alexis sincerely means it as a compliment, in her weird way. 

Being on a plane for an hour and a half has left Alexis with a flood of missed emails and social media updates to catch up on, and Stevie has her hands more than full focusing on the (ever more treacherous) road, so they ride in companionable silence. 

She and Alexis are _ friends _ , Stevie’s pretty sure. Not like her and David (Alexis may be singular, but she’s decidedly  _ not  _ an outsider), but they’ve hung out before. The night of David and Patrick’s wedding, they’d both gotten shitfaced, cried about their shared fear of dying alone, and woken up the next day in the same clothes. If Alexis hadn’t immediately caught the next plane for New York they might have even…  _ bonded _ . 

(Technically, they’ve kissed, too, but Stevie doesn’t really count that in the grand scale of closeness, as Alexis’s eyes were on Ted the whole time, and her recoil was so quick an onlooker could’ve blinked and missed the entire thing. She’s a little offended, to be honest, but not enough to ever say anything to that effect. ) 

So, yeah,  _ friends _ , but Stevie also kind of hates herself when she’s around Alexis, because she’s like, the Uber-Pretty Popular Girl, and on the inside, Stevie feels like she’s back in high school, shy and quiet and terrified that all the jokes people make about her boyish name might come true, that she’ll be found out and her shitty boring life will go from monotonous to actually unbearable. 

It never comes to pass; if there’s one thing Stevie Budd is fuckin’ great at, it’s compartmentalizing. Shannon Berry, class president and captain of the cheerleading squad, never had a clue that her smile made Stevie feel like she was gonna throw up. (In the crush way, not the repulsed way.) And apparently, Stevie’s type in women is like,  _ very _ specific (unattainable blondes who are actually _ super nice _ and also have smiles so radiant it hurts to look at them), so it hadn’t really been a problem until the Roses came through town. She’d meant it, at the time, when she’d told David she drank Red Wine exclusively. Alexis wasn’t even on the menu. The things we do and the things we want don’t always overlap, and she’s never wanted  _ anything _ enough to deal with being talked about behind the town’s back. 

Although it’s not really like, other than teenagers being generally shitty, Stevie’s really had a lot to worry about, judgment wise; David and Patrick are universally beloved, and Ronnie has probably dated more women than Jake at this point. But there are the Ronnies of this world (confident, self-assured, charming only because they’ve never given themselves the option to be anything else) and then there are the Stevies (cynical, neurotic, awkward at the very best of times). And shit, if Stevie can’t get an objective schlub like Emir to stick around, it’s not like she could ever get someone like Alexis to kiss her like they  _ mean _ it. 

And it’s fine that way, honestly, it’s the order of the universe: Stevie and Alexis are friends, and Stevie kind of has a crush on Alexis, and oh, by the way, this squall is has become a full-on-blizzard in the time it’s taken her to overthink all this shit.

“Alexis?” 

“Hmmmm?” She doesn’t look up from her phone, but raises her brow enough that Stevie thinks she might actually be listening. 

“Can you look on your phone for the nearest motel? We’re definitely not gonna make it back to Schitt’s Creek in this.” 

Alexis wrinkles her nose in confusion (if the roads weren’t so treacherous, Stevie would take the time to admire the cuteness of the gesture), before looking up and, in a word, panicking. 

“Oh my god, Stevie! It’s like a  _ blizzard  _ out here! Thank  _ god _ I didn’t ask David to drive me, we’d be dead in a ditch right now!” 

“Right, so, can you use that phone of yours to find us a hotel?” 

Alexis sighs dramatically as Stevie turns on her hazards and white-knuckles the steering wheel. They’re far enough down highway 10 that roads aren’t crowded. Alexis informs her there’s actually a motel two miles away, one which, Stevie recalls, they have on their list to try to acquire eventually with the Rosebud Motel Group, so, if nothing else, she might have a bit of business intel at the end of their stay. 

_

Because the universe has an absolutely  _ fucked _ sense of humor, there’s exactly one room available, and it’s a single. Stevie hauls Alexis’s bags inside while Alexis phones David, melodramatically recounting the events of the past few hours while bemoaning the fact that she won’t get to see them until at least tomorrow. She softens the blow for herself by surmising that she’ll be in Schitt’s Creek long enough that taking a detour to get there isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“I thought you were just coming up for the weekend?” 

Stevie cranks up the wall heater, laying her now-soaked jacket on it to dry out. 

Alexis flops her hand casually, her limbs simultaneously communicating “ _ It’s no big deal _ ” and “ _ this is the biggest sacrifice anyone has ever made. _ ” 

“I just think, like, being based in New York is soooo 2015, you know? And small towns are really the future of media and like, digital voice? So I’m going to split my time between Schitt’s Creek and Manhattan, you know, like, being bicoastal except, one of those coasts is more of a prairie.” 

“So, you weren’t really turning down precious time with David by making me drive you,” Stevie smirks, feeling somehow like this confession gives her the upper hand. 

Alexis pouts. 

(It’s gross that it’s so cute, frankly. She’s easily twenty years older than it’s remotely reasonable to pout.)

“I just didn’t want to be emotionally assaulted by his happy perfect life, okay!” 

She throws her hands up for emphasis. 

“Like, I love David, and I love Patrick, and obviously they’re like, totally cute, hashtag Love Wins, but I just needed time to prepare myself for being around people who have their lives so figured out.” 

The implication that Stevie does not at all have hers figured out is cutting— all she can offer in response is a long, slow exhale. 

“I’m sorry.” 

To her credit, Alexis does look genuinely remorseful. 

(It’s a good look on her, sincere. It makes Stevie feel like her feet are going to drop through the floor at any moment.) 

“Not your fault I’m still a fucking mess,” Stevie laughs. 

“Hey, no,” Alexis frowns. “You’re like, a totally successful businesswoman, and you’ve revitalized your community— and honestly being married before you’re fifty is like,  _ so  _ overdone? I mean, obviously it worked for my parents, but ew, totally retro in a  _ bad _ way, now.” 

Stevie rolls her eyes, but accepts the compliment (?) nonetheless. 

“Well, I don’t think  _ the _ Alexis Rose of Alexis Rose Communications is any slouch, okay? I’d say she’s probably putting the Sex & the City Girls to shame.” 

Alexis’s eyes widen and she can’t hide her grin. 

“You really think so? I mean, I’m obviously totally a Carrie, and you’re like,  _ such _ a Miranda, but I don’t really buy you with Steve. Maybe you just remind me of Cynthia Nixon? Not because of like, the gay thing, more because of the sort-of no-nonsense, ‘fuck the haters’ energy. And I would  _ totally  _ vote for you if you ever decided to run for governor of New York.” 

Stevie’s body reflexively freezes up at the allusion to lesbianism, but if her response is delayed, Alexis is too absorbed in her own voice to notice. Eventually, Stevie decides she might as well interrupt the updates on D-list celebrity happenings. 

“Um, so, I didn’t bring any clothes, seeing as this was not at all meant to be an overnight trip,” Stevie grimaces. 

“Hmmm,” Alexis begins to rummage through her suitcase,”Obviously my usual nightwear won’t work on  _ your _ frame, but I think I have some old sweats of Ted’s.” 

Stevie takes the proffered makeshift pajamas, unable to stop concern from creeping into her voice. 

“It’s been a year since you and Ted broke up, Alexis… are you… okay?” 

“Oh, absolutely, one hundo percent,” Alexis beams, “Honestly, Ted and I are like, totally platonic penpals now, but he told me I could keep the sweatpants since it’s so hot in the Galapagos, and like, they really are a godsend when I’m pms-ing, you know?” 

Surprisingly, the chipperness doesn’t feel forced at all. Stevie thinks if she’d had anything remotely approaching what Alexis and Ted did she’d probably sulk about it for at least a decade, but that’s probably  _ why _ she hasn’t, to tell the truth. 

(Mopiness is unattractive, allegedly.) 

Stevie gets changed in the bathroom, washes her face, brushes her teeth, tries not to think too hard about how the clothes smell like Alexis’s perfume as she pulls the baggy t-shirt over her head. 

Alexis is lounging on the bed in silk pajamas, idly flipping through the five channels available on the tv. 

“Okay, slaying this look, Stevie,” she nods approvingly. “That color totally makes your eyes pop.” 

“My eyes are brown?” 

“And the teal provides a striking contrast, which makes them look incredible? I mean, I know you’re sartorially challenged, but like,  _ basic _ color theory.” 

Stevie feels herself blushing, so she just crawls under the covers and gestures for Alexis to take the bathroom. 

She’s mostly asleep by the time Alexis emerges, skin dewy and moisturized, the scent of various serums and lotions heavy in the air. 

(These rituals of femininity have always been a mystery to Stevie: joint trips to the restroom on nights out and intricate skincare rituals; jewelry for special occasions and manicures just because. For all that she tells herself she’s not like the other girls, she wants so much to understand them, to be seen as some sort of equal on the playing field of womanhood.) 

“Wow, early night, okayyyy, we  _ are _ back in rural Canada,” Alexis singsongs as she fluffs her pillow. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired,” Stevie grunts. “Attempting to drive in a blizzard adds a lot of tension to your body.” 

“Do you need a shoulder rub? I’m honestly great with my hands, little hidden secret, the masseuse at Richard Branson’s chateau showed me a thing or two—” 

“ _ No! _ ” Stevie yelps, much louder than intended. 

“It was just an offer,” Alexis huffs, climbing into bed beside Stevie and turning to face away from her. 

“Sorry, I’m just um, almost asleep and I think the pain would wake me back up,” Stevie lies. “But thank you, I appreciate it.” 

“Okay, well, if you’re still sore in the morning, I’m honestly more than happy to help.” 

Alexis’s voice is soft and warm and low, and every cell in Stevie’s body wans to say “yes,  _ please,”  _ so she settles for a noncommittal “Maybe.” 

_ 

Stevie sleeps in fits and starts. Alexis apparently makes the same little huffy noises in sleep as she does awake (Stevie’s pretty sure there’s at least one “Ew, David!” thrown in the mix), and when she’s not sighing dramatically, she’s draping her long limbs… everywhere. After attempting to slide out from under Alexis’s leg without waking her for the third time, Stevie decides to give up and give in, letting the warm weight lull her back to sleep. 

It’s nice, actually, to be close to someone like this, even if it’s an unconscious reflex. 

Stevie wakes to the muffled quiet that means the snow is still falling. This time, she does manage to wriggle out of Alexis’s grasp (she recieves an overdramatic “ughhhhhhhhh” in response) and checks the weather app on her phone to confirm that, yeah, they’re not fucking going anywhere today. She texts David as much, since it looks like Alexis is in no hurry to wake. 

_ Full on blizzard. Looks like we’ll be able to make it home tomorrow. _

_ Fingers crossed? _

**Snowed in with Alexis? Good luck, hon.**

_ Fuck you too buddy  _

**I hope you’re near a liquor store**

_ You know what, I’m glad I’m stuck with her and not with you _

_ she’s actually nice to me  _

**Sounds fake but ok**

**Wait**

**You still have a crush on her, DON’T YOU????**

This is not something of which she and David have ever spoken; it is not something of which Stevie ever _ intended  _ to speak. But unfortunately David clearly knows her well enough to interpret measured aloofness as the infatuation it tries to hide. 

_ FUCK. YOU.  _

**Sorry, babe, I’m married <3 **

**Alexis isn’t tho ;)**

**Don’t know how she’d feel about having my sloppy seconds tho :(**

_ I’m actually just not coming back to schitt’s creek at all _

_ you’re going to have to find someone else to discuss jocelyn’s hairstyles with  _

**Listen- I think this could be good for you. Either you two have the romantic snowbound romp of your dreams, or you realize you can’t fucking stand to be in an enclosed space with her and voila! Crush cured!**

**My money’s on door number two, but never say never <3 **

_ You should be glad you’re not dead in a ditch right now _

**She told you to say that didn’t she?**

Stevie responds with a selfie of herself giving David the finger, which he answers with a selfie of him kissing Patrick’s cheek. 

(He’s  _ very _ lucky they’re cute.)

_ I’m only not going to murder you because I like Patrick and I don’t want to make him sad _

_ See you tomorrow  _

**Xoxoxo**

Alexis grunts from behind her, hair ruffled and eyes sleepy. 

(Everything that should make her objectively more unattractive just endears her to Stevie more; she’s absolutely  _ fucked _ .) 

“Who are you talking to?”

“Just letting David know we… probably won’t make it back today. It’s still bad out there and the news says roads won’t be drivable until the morning.” 

Alexis reaches for Stevie’s phone, as if to confirm the conversation with her own eyes, but Stevie quickly evades the maneuver and walks to the counter to offer Alexis a cup of shitty motel coffee instead. 

“Sorry it’s not Starbucks.” 

“Of all the trips to forget my travel latte machine, honestly,” Alexis groans. “This is like,  _ actual  _ torture.” 

Stevie shrugs. 

“I dunno, if you put enough sugar and non-dairy creamer in it it’s downright drinkable.” 

Alexis crosses her arms but accepts the beverage anyway, flipping on the tv and scrolling through her phone. 

Stevie attempts to do the same; she feels reasonably okay at the prospect of 24 hours of boredom, given how well-versed she is at long hours behind a reception desk. She learned long ago to master the art of idle waiting. 

Alexis, though? Not so much. 

An hour in, she’s apparently exhausted every social media feed, caught up on emails for the next month, and possibly started a feud between Khloe Kardashian and Selena Gomez. 

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going to survive this sober,” Alexis mutters, rummaging through her carryon and fishing out a bag of gummies. 

“Alexis, it’s 10 am.” 

“And we’re stuck in this grody hotel room all day with only a vending machine for food! It would be more irresponsible to  _ not  _ get stoned.” 

“You… make a fair point. Not gonna ask about you taking drugs onto a plane…” 

“It’s legal here,” Alexis rolls her eyes, “And like, basically legal in New York, no one cares.” 

“Pretty sure it’s still not cool to take it over the border?” 

“Are you going to get high with me, or are you going to be a narc, Stevie?” 

“Gimme a red one.” 

_

Stevie is ambivalent about weed; she’s never been in the habit of being a regular stoner, and she prefers the predictability of a beer buzz to the seemingly interminable effects of edibles, but well, all they have is time right now. 

It sneaks up on her, the high, and she’s glad she limited her intake to half a dose. (Alexis is clearly an old pro, which honestly makes sense, and is in a way comforting, considering how many stories she has about top-secret warehouse parties and designer drugs. She’s never met anyone so fundamentally different from herself.) 

“Okay, you’re right, this is way better, I feel like I’m floating,” she sighs, lying on her back and fanning her arms out, like big, strong wings. 

“I’m always right,” Alexis sighs happily, ”you should remember that, Stevie.” 

“What else are you right about?” 

“Teal is like _ , totally _ your color. And you were a better choice to pick me up from the airport than David. He’s like, the least fun person in the world.” 

“Hey, I like David.” 

“Okay, but would you  _ really _ want to get high with him?” 

Alexis’s stare is dead serious, and for some reason this sends Stevie into a fit of giggles. 

“Well, the one time we got stoned together we ended up hooking up, which, you know, I still can’t decide if it was a net positive or negative.” 

Alexis gasps. 

“You were stoned when that happened? Okay, that honestly makes so much more sense, like, no offense Stevie but I would be a little worried if you’d made that choice sober.”

Stevie shrugs. 

“I’ve made worse choices drunk. Kiiiiind of a makeout queen.” 

“Should’ve stopped at the duty-free liquor store,” Alexis mumbles. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing. Um, but like, David was _ totally  _ paranoid, right?”

Stevie giggles remembering the hat fiasco and David’s fear of being caught out (that had quickly turned into a frantic makeout, but she’s kind of over talking about that bit).

This sends them on a detour into impersonating David-on-Drugs for a solid 30 minutes, and Stevie doesn’t think she’s laughed this hard in years. Alexis is very funny. And _ very _ cute. 

And Stevie could really benefit from the cold bracing wind of the great white north right about now. 

“And, the munchies have officially hit. What’s your poison?”

“Ketchup chips. And chocolate. I can’t get up though, that’s all you.” 

Alexis stares at her fingernail polish (glitter was a prescient choice) as Stevie wills herself back to a stand, and grabs the stray cash from her wallet. 

The chill is sobering, but not enough so that it doesn’t take her five minutes to make her very important snack selections. Still, it’s nice to hit the reset button on her brain, to re-establish some of the inhibitions that were falling away. If booze makes her kiss inappropriate people, maybe weed creates a Rose-family specific phenomenon.

(She hasn’t wanted to kiss Alexis for years or anything, that would be pathetic.) 

Alexis greets her full-armed return with a melodramatic “My hero!” and a sloppy kiss on the cheek, before devoting her undivided attention to the feast before her, sighing in contentment at the suddenly brilliant combination of flavored potatoes and Smarties. 

Stevie, for her part, has never had a powdered donut so delicious in her  _ life. ( _ She makes a mental note to leave an extra tip for housekeeping as apology for the mess.) 

“So… like… “ Alexis drawls, licking crumbs off the end of her finger, “What’s the hot goss? You still hooking up with Jake? Any new hotel reviewers catch your eye?” 

“Can’t we talk about the magic of eye shadow or something? I thought the idea was that we weren’t going to be depressed today.” 

Alexis shrugs, flopping backwards onto the mattress and patting the comforter beside her, inviting Stevie to join. 

“Can you blame a girl for being curious?” 

“Yeah, I can, given that you live in fucking New York City, and you want to know what the dating scene is like in Schitt’s Creek. Not good! What else is new?” 

Alexis sighs, then gets distracted blowing her bangs up off her forehead for five minutes, before lazily returning to the conversation at hand. 

“I’m honestly like, so busy with work and my career and building the brand that I don’t even want to date right now? It’s like, kind of crazy, considering I’m totally in a glow-up era, but you know, it’s almost better finding my worth in my own accomplishments and not my perceived attractiveness to romantic partners? Weird.” 

“Totally,” Stevie hums. 

They keep moving closer as they talk, like there’s a magnet in the center of the bed drawing both their bodies inward. Stevie feels her knees brush against Alexis’s, gets goosebumps when their forearms accidentally bump. She knows that she’s stoned, but she also knows that there’s always been something about Alexis that’s drawn her in, she’s just finally relaxed enough to stop fighting it tooth-and-nail.

The wind’s picked up, howling and battering the sides of the old building (definitely a renovation need if they end up buying the property). Then suddenly, the bedside lamp and tv shut off, the room surprisingly dark in the early dusk of winter.

Alexis gasps, gripping Stevie’s bicep and turning on her side so they’re facing each other. 

“Just a power outage,” Stevie assures her. 

And then, like it’s the most natural conclusion to this moment, Alexis’s lips are on hers. 

They’re sticky— just because they’re still in pajamas doesn’t mean she forgot lip gloss— but soft, and Stevie _ feels _ Alexis’s happy little sighs more than she hears them, her own tension and anxiety dissipating as Alexis leads the way. 

(Her tongue is as confident as her dance moves. It’s impressive, yet unsurprising.) 

When they part, Stevie feels more stoned than before, like the air around her is liquid and her limbs are made of sand. 

Alexis just smiles. 

“ _ Finally _ .” 

“What do you mean,  _ finally _ ?” 

Alexis starts talking so quickly Stevie’s brain can hardly keep up.

“I was honestly beginning to think asking you to pick me up was a mistake, but then, nature clearly had other plans, and I swear I’ve been waiting like a year to do that but the timing was just weird and you were like, clearly still trapped in your own neuroses and hangups about labels, and David like totally thought this would be a bust, but I really think more people should say yes to drugs, because, hey, look at us!” 

Stevie wants to be chill and fun, wants to be able to laugh along and enjoy this moment she’s been literally _ yearning  _ for, but her head is on fire with the rage of feeling betrayed and embarassed and _ stupid _ . 

“You  _ planned _ this? And _ David  _ knew? You’re straight!  _ I’m  _ straight! I… cannot deal with this right now.” 

She makes a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door shut and gripping the sink hard enough she could crumble the porcelain to dust. 

Alexis stands on the other side, the timbre of her voice cutting through the wood effortlessly.

“Okay, first of all, _pretty_ sure no one’s been a hundred percent straight since like, 2008 at the _latest._ And like, feel free to keep that label for yourself, but it’s a little rude to act like you don’t stare at me all longingly when you think no one’s watching. I’m _kind_ _of_ an expert in knowing when someone’s into me!” 

A weird occurrence that Stevie had brushed off as carelessness suddenly emerges in a new light.

“Oh god, is this why you kept accidentally texting me last month? Jesus fucking Christ I’m going to throw up.” 

“Um, don’t be a homophobe?” 

Stevie opens the door, tired of shouting, and fixes Alexis with a glare. 

“You lived in Schitt’s Creek for like...5 years and never once dated a woman. Why should I believe this isn’t some elaborate prank?” 

“Okay, well it’s way more likely that you and David would gang up to embarrass me, first of all…” 

Stevie narrows her eyes, into the death stare that never fails.

“Answer the question.” 

Alexis blushes, staring at her feet. 

“The only woman I ever would’ve wanted to date took a really long time to warm up to me.” 

“Ronnie? She’s just like that with everyone.” 

Alexis groans. 

“No, _ you _ , silly! I’m like,  _ really _ trying here, Stevie, but you’re kind of like, totally fucking oblivious, do you know that?” 

When she steps back and looks at the past year, there are… patterns that suggest that Alexis is telling the truth. A lot of winky face emojis, for one. 

“I’ve… been called that before, yeah,” Stevie exhales, reminding herself that she should probably keep breathing, even if all of this turns out to be a cruel, cruel hallucination.

“Like, I totally thought we would hook up after the wedding, honestly, I’d get it out of my system, start fresh in New York, and instead I’m obsessing over what could have been and sending ‘accidental’ texts? Ew! So just, if you’re not ready to own up to the pining on your end, at least put me out of my misery so I can stop coming back to this barren tundra of a place only to get my heart stomped on for the millionth time.” 

Alexis is putting all her cards on the table.

Maybe for once, Stevie won’t fold. 

“I have possibly, maybe, pined a bit.” 

She holds Alexis’s hands in her own, painfully aware of how rough and dry her skin feels in comparison.

“I  _ knew  _ you had a crush on me!” 

“Yeah, well, you’re beautiful and charming and kind, which is not normally my type  _ at all _ , but you’re never too old to change, I suppose.” 

Alexis is  _ beaming _ now, and Stevie realizes that it’s worth it, actually, the terror of putting yourself out there for someone else. David and Patrick may be onto something with their disgusting degree of devotion. 

“Well, apparently, my new type is super into flannel and complaining about everything, but for some reason, that’s like, way hotter to me than the finance hunks of lower Manhattan.” 

“I’ve heard personal growth is in these days,” Stevie shrugs. 

Alexis runs her thumbs gently over the back of Stevie’s hands, stepping closer and meeting her gaze, bold and unafraid. 

(Despite all her mooning, Stevie has somehow missed just how incredible Alexis’s eyes are. Green and gold like the ocean at sunset.) 

“Can I kiss you again, then?  _ Without  _ you freaking out?” 

“I wouldn’t call that a freakout—”

“Focus on the important part, Stevie.” 

“Yes, yes you can.” 

Alexis’s devotion to barre class has clearly paid off— she lifts Stevie by the waist and carries her to the bed, pinning her down and kissing her deep and slow. 

It’s nice,  _ really  _ nice, and Stevie doesn’t want to stop, at  _ all, _ but she’s a bit haunted by the last time she got high with a Rose sibling. 

“This isn’t like, a friends-with-benefits situation, is it? Because um, that’s not really what I’m looking for.” 

Alexis rolls her eyes, but doesn’t take her hands off of Stevie’s hips. 

“I don’t stay in shitty motels during blizzards for  _ friends _ , Stevie.” 

“It’s honestly more of a squall, you know we might even be able to drive the rest of the way tonight—”

“Don’t you dare make me leave this awful bed.” 

Stevie isn’t hard to persuade— Schitt’s Creek will still be there waiting in the morning. And yeah, maybe they haven’t truly “defined the relationship,” but Stevie knows she’s got a shot at  _ something _ wtih Alexis, and she’s gonna fucking take it. 

_

Somewhere in the vicinity of midnight, the power is restored. 

Stevie wakes in the morning with her arm asleep and Alexis’s long (impressively flexible) leg wrapped around her waist. Alexis pulls her in closer and kisses her neck, and for the first time in a long time, Stevie doesn’t want to run away, in the slightest. 

“If you can get me decent coffee, I’ll marry you.” 

“Movin’ a little fast there, Alexis.” 

“Fine, if you can get me decent coffee, I  _ won’t _ marry you.” 

“Now we’re talkin.” 

It’s not awkward, the morning after (possibly because Stevie knows it’s not a one-time thing, possibly because Alexis has no shame about her body or anyone else’s). And yeah, it takes an extra thirty minutes to track down a satisfactory coffee shop, but Stevie’s more than happy to make the detour, given Alexis’s moan of delight the moment she takes her first sip. 

(She suspects she’d probably be happy to suffer a lot of time-consuming inconveniences if it meant they’d make Alexis happy, she only hopes she’ll have the time and opportunity to test her hypothesis.)

Alexis is happy to chatter once she has caffeine in her system, smiling at the welcome sunshine that guides them the rest of the way home. 

“Are you  _ sure _ that was your first time with a woman? Because that thing with your fingers? Artistry.” 

“Um, yeah, no, it was my first time. Glad to know it wasn’t a total disappointment.” 

“I mean, we can definitely build the repertoire, babe, but you have a  _ lot _ of raw talent. I guess it makes sense, given how you came out of nowhere with the Cabaret thing. You’re a dark horse, Stevie. I like that.” 

“Well, you can’t fake chemistry, right?” 

(She’s fishing for reassurance, she knows, but Stevie is so used to being the wet blanket, the ruiner-of-fun that she needs to know there’s a  _ there _ , here.)

“Right,” Alexis kisses her on the cheek, leaving a shiny lip print. “The only label we need is warning label for flammability, am I right?” 

“Oh god, what am I getting myself into?” 

“Not what you said last night, boo.” 

_

David, to his credit, only raises an impeccably sculpted brow when Alexis informs him she’ll be crashing at Stevie’s place for the duration of her stay. 

(He does text Stevie  **omg!!! I mean, like, a little gross if i think about it too much, but also: OMG!!!!!!!** She’ll take it as a heartfelt congratulations.) 

Johnny takes to the news with a bit of fluster, but he reminds Stevie she’s pretty much already family, so no matter what happens she’ll always be something like a daughter to him, anyway. Stevie isn’t sure if that’s more an indictment of her or Alexis’s propensity to fuck things up, but that’s on her for trying to date her business partner’s daughter. 

Moira does an instagram live for her followers, talking about how happy she is that both of her children are queer, and how much she adores her LGBTQ+ fans. She’s joined by a drag performer who specializes in replicating her role from the Crowening. It’s… very on-brand. 

  
And it turns out, Alexis splitting her time between NYC and Rural Ontario is the move of a true visionary, ahead of her field and proof that career women  _ can _ have it all (except kids, ew). 

**Author's Note:**

> this was really just an excuse to write alexis dialogue; thank you all for bearing with me <3


End file.
